The Scarlett Boy
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: John and Sherlock are only a year apart and John is taking care of the orphaned Sherlock. John has school to worry about too, though. so Sherlock goes his own way to solve cases. they encounter one where the mystery takes John away from Mary, and brings him closer to Sherlock. a lot closer. Warning: JohnLock. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

The Scarlett Boy

Chapter 1

My life, so far has been very boring. Well, until this boy came into my life. He's only 14, and I'm 16, but he is a lot more intelligent than I, which is saying something, because I'm at the top of my class. I have straight As. But the strangest part about this boy is that he's homeschooled. Whoever teaches him must be a genius, because he knows everything I do, and a little more.

If he was in my grade (11), he would probably easily be my match. He knows things about chemistry that I haven't reached yet. His knows a lot about the history of the many things that I never considered before. But, do you know what's the funniest thing I've heard come out of his mouth? He doesn't know the solar system. Out of all the things he couldn't learn, the solar system is something he didn't. he said that he 'deleted' anything that wasn't necessary to his cases. But, honestly, really?

Anyway, I'm John Hamish Watson, god I hate that middle name, just as much as I hate my father. Well, of course, it is my father's middle name but more to the story. This boy's name is Sherlock Holmes, and he turns 15 tomorrow: Valentine's Day. I feel bad for him, being born on a holiday. My birthday isn't until August. The date of today is actually more significant than the others, it's February 13th, the day before Valentine's Day, and I have this one girl on my mind. I don't like her a lot, but she's cute.

Mary and I wanted to go to see a movie or something; we're both lonely on Valentine's Day and I can tell that she likes me, so I said I would take her. she got all excited as if I was her first date ever. But I know I'm not, someone as pretty as her, no way.

My thoughts are interrupted by Sherlock, "John," he says. "I think we should try to find a murder victim tomorrow. What do you think?" I look at him, confused_. Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. Why would a murder pop up? _

I turn to face him, "What makes you think there'll be a murder tomorrow? Besides, you're only 14, you shouldn't be thinking about things like that." he gives me a look that says that he doesn't care what I say anymore.

"Well, as you know, tomorrow is sadly, my birthday, and I like solving cases, especially murders." He gives me another look that says he really does like solving someone else's misery. "Besides, if I was to murder a girlfriend or wife, I'd do it tomorrow, so no one would suspect me."

"Um. Sherlock?" he looks to me, "You're not going to do something are you?" I ask him. He shakes his head furiously.

"Why would I o something like that? I solve the mysteries, not make them. there's no fun in a murder unless you're the detective." He gives me a look of hurt at the fact that I would suggest such a thing.

I shrug it off, "Just sounded as if you might." It does, though. And I wouldn't put anything past this kid. He's weird.

He sits on his bed on the other side of the room, across from my bed. Our beds are on the opposite walls because, ever since his brother died, I've been looking after him. I don't know why, but I feel responsible for him. I care for him more than anything else, that's for sure. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father and sister don't even look my way anymore.

So, in a sense, we're the same. But in another way, we're completely different. I sigh, "We should go to bed, I have school in the morning and work in the afternoon and a date later that night. I have a lot going on. you, on the other hand have a case to find, apparently." He nods and lays down. I pull the blanket over the little detective and kiss him on the forehead.

Or, at least I try to, but he smacks my hand from his burnet curls, "Don't treat me as if I'm a child. I'm only a year younger than you." he pulls my face down to where our noses were meeting, "And since you have a girlfriend, I won't do the one thing I've wanted to, but if you ever break her heart. Well…" what? Does he like me or something? No, from what I can gather, he likes no one, that's why I don't like him. Because believe me, if I had the chance to, I would… never mind what I would do.

He lets go, "Fine. Just go to sleep." I lay in my bed, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I gain sleep from the long day I've had. I'm so glad tomorrow is Friday.

I woke up the next morning to find the curly haired menace that I call my flatmate, next to me. when I opened my eyes, he was already staring at me, his bluish grayish eyes digging into mine, "What are you doing?" I back up to the wall and sat up.

He sat up as well, "I couldn't sleep last night, so I cuddled up next to you. you're warm by the way. Is there a problem with that?" I give him a glare.

"What did you do to me? did you experiment on me?" I look down at myself to try to find anything that would prove me right.

"No," he shakes his head, his curls bouncing, " I didn't do anything but cuddle next to you." He shrugs and gets up from my bed and walks to his closet. He pulls out a set of clothes for himself, "You should get dressed as well, you have a lot to do today." I should. And I do.

"Sherlock," he looks at me, expectant of the usual orders, "Don't forget, I remember everything." He scoffs, I get closer, "Everything." He looks down at me; see that's the worst part, he's taller than I am.

"I doubt you, but I guess we'll see later then won't we?" I nod and smile, walking out the door, and locking it behind me. I walk down the hallway and out to the car that I just happen to 'borrow' from my father. He won't notice it's gone, he's got enough. This car was nice though. Not the best, but not a piece of shit, either. It's whatever.

I climb into the driver's seat, thinking about whether Sherlock is safe or if he'll get into some kind of trouble before I get home again. Then I start to think about last night, if I had… no, I hadn't and I won't. There won't be any more drama than there already has to be.

I start the car and take the familiar route to the high school where the next year is my last. I'm not sad, though. I'm actually really happy that next year is the last. It means I get to escape to college. But what of Sherlock? Maybe I should enroll him into the high school. Maybe get him to tenth grade. Seems right for his age.

No, he'd just cause problems, what with his silly deductions, he'd make every one of his teachers cry. Maybe even the men.

I arrive a little earlier than usual, a few minutes before 8:00. School starts at 8:20, but I guess Sherlock kicked me out of the flat a little early this morning, I wonder why. Whatever, it's Sherlock, he's a little brat and would never tell me anything if I tortured it out of him.

I leave the car and make way to the doors to see Mary standing in front of them with a group of friends surrounding her. as soon as I approach, they leave, giggling about something. "Hey," I stop in front of her. her blond hair is taken by the wind as she can't figure out what to say. She smiles.

"How's Sherlock?" really.

I nod, "He's fine, why?" she shrugs. "So, are we still on for tonight?" she nods, "Seven?" she nods again and walks through the doors to follow her friends. Ok.

I head to my first class: chemistry. I'm reminded of Sherlock as soon as I walk through the door. Science was everywhere as I sat down in my chair. I pull out my homework from last night and look over the answers that sadly, Sherlock helped with. I don't know why, but when he teaches me, I always understand it better.

The teacher is sitting at her desk when she asks, "Did you get a good night's sleep, John?" I look up at Mrs. Jenny.

I smile, "Yeah. I always do, especially with Sherlock getting on me about it all the time."

She chuckles softly, "That boy is good for you. don't let him get away." What does that mean? She smiles and sits in her seat as I go over the homework one last time. Then I just sit there and look at the many things about this room that remind me of at least one of Sherlock's mysteries.

When he solves them, he slips the Yard a note and they 'solve' the case the next day. I think it's funny, but Sherlock thinks the funniest part is Lestrade's face each time he solves the case before the Yard can. I will admit, each part of the story is unbelievable if you don't live with the guy yourself. At first I didn't believe him.

That's also why I took him in as mine, because he seemed crazy, until that day we were sitting in my room and he started to deduce things about me that no one else even bothered to find out. That was when I decided that this boy would be my responsibility. If he gets into the wrong hands, they could use him for things that a young man should never be involved with.

My thoughts are disrupted by the bell, and students start rushing into the classroom. Jenice sits by me and says, "So, how is that boyfriend of yours, John?" I sigh in frustration.

"He's not my boyfriend, and he's fine." I look at my burnet friend.

She laughs, "Well, from the way you talk about him, he might as well be your boyfriend." I shrug. He might as well be, but if anything, I take care of him. Besides, if tonight goes well, I'll have a girlfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I got home from a very boring day of school, Sherlock was sitting on my bed, and on my laptop. "Sherlock!" I yell at him and snap the laptop shut. "What were you doing?" I question my flatmate.

"There's a new case. I was looking at the details of the murder. I told you there'd probably be one." He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

I sit the laptop down on the table and sit beside him, "Why are you sitting on my bed then?" I question him.

He blushes, "Because. I could." I look at him with a face that says 'really?'. He rolls his eyes and pulls me into a hug, "You have a special person to get to, don't worry about me, I'll solve the case and be done before you get back."

I shake my head, and look at him, "No. I have a few hours left before I go to get her, so why don't you let me help you with the case for a little while. I know a lot about being a doctor. I could help." This will be the first time I officially help him with a mystery.

"Are you sure?" he asks. I nod and pick up the computer only to have him swipe it from me. "Well," from the looks of it, the man's throat was ripped out and on his chest was carved a broken heart." I look at the pictures that he found on the website that he hacked into.

He was right. From the looks of it, he's right. "So then, do you think it was one person who did it?" he shakes his head.

"The symbol left suggests that it's a group trying to show off." I nod in understanding. It makes sense. "What I don't get is how it was done. I mean, obviously the mark was made with a knife, a kitchen one in fact, but the throat. I don't know."

I examine the throat closer, "From what I can tell, it was done with someone who has sharp nails, but it was done with the bare hands." I show him where I got these indications.

He smirks at me, "See. You can still teach me things. Anyway, then it could very well be a woman instead of a man. Plus, the mark is almost perfect, so this supports my thesis even more. What do you say?"

I look from the screen to my burnet's face, "I agree with you completely. I don't have anything else that I could really say. Except, why would he be a target?" Sherlock shrugs.

"According to the records of Jeffery Morstan, that's his name, he's completely clean of everything. he seems like a very nice man. So I don't know. You got any ideas?" he looks to me for an answer I can't give. I shake my head and look at him back. We both want answers, but don't know them, and it's killing Sherlock. I can tell, I've seen that hunger before. He's found a good one and won't stop until he solves it. Good, it'll give him something to do besides bug me tonight.

At least I think that's his hungry for more blood look. But I don't figure it out until he gets closer, "You still have a few hours, don't you?" I nod. What is he doing? He puts his hand over mine and lifts my fingers to his lips. I pull it away.

I stand and give him a look of confusion. "What are you doing?" he gets up and takes my hand again.

"Kissing your hand, duh. That's such a stupid question to ask me." he gets closer to where our noses are touching again.

I don't pull away, but I do ask, "Why are doing this?" he looks down on me and his eyes are ice cold, but beautiful.

"Because I can." He lets go of my hand and uses both of his to grab my face and pulls me closer, now are lips are almost touching.

"Don't." I break away, "Not until- No, you know what? Not ever. Just don't. I'm sorry, but…" I can't finish my statement.

He gives me a glare of hurt as he sits back down on the bed and looks at the laptop more, "Just do one thing for me won't you?" I look to him in questioning. "You don't like her as much as me, so break it off before you hurt her." what?

I cross my arms over my chest, "What do you mean?"

He looks at me, "I took your pulse and your pupils dilated. So don't tell me you don't like me." you little brat. "Just make sure you don't hurt her, will you?"

"Oh, I promise not to hurt her, you on the other hand…" I lift him off the bed by his button up shirt.

He smiles, "You couldn't and you wouldn't." I put him down again, I can't. I never could, even when I first met him, I don't know why, but I can't hurt him. Anyone else I could easily knock them unconscious, but him, never.

I ruffle his hair and sit by him, "Maybe I shouldn't even go. Maybe I should just stay here and make sure you don't get into any more trouble."

"Maybe." He sighs, "Maybe you should call her, and tell her that." He pulls my cell out of my pocket and hands it to me. I flip it open, and go to where she put her number in the contacts list. I find her name and click on it.

I stand and walk out into the hallway where Sherlock can't see my face. obviously he'll hear me, but I don't want him to see me.

It rings twice and she picks it up, "Hello?"

I speak up, "Hey. Mary um, listen, I can't make it tonight."

"Can't or won't?" she questions me.

I don't lie, but it still hurts, "Won't." I wait for her to reply. But instead I hear her scoff and hang up. Great. Now she hates me. I sigh and walk back through the door to find Sherlock dressed and in his coat, holding mine, "What are you doing?"

He threw me my coat, "Taking you to a crime scene. It's walking distance away and you don't know the city as well as I do." He takes my hand and walks out the door to meet me, "Let's go." He leads me to the sidewalk and I end up giving up and following him.

I don't let go of his hand, though. Instead, instead, I lace my fingers through his. He squeezes mine in response. "So, how do we get in to look at the body?" I question my detective.

He smiles mischievously, "That's the thing, I took Mycroft's ID. I can get into anywhere I like, I just gotta do it right." I roll my eyes, he's always good at stealing things he's not supposed to have.

"I have to admit, the fact that you keep taking things is…" where's the word for it, "Sexy." Sexy? I said that? yeah, I did. Damn it.

"Sexy? Ok." We stop in front of an apartment building, "Here. The second floor." I nod and take the card from Sherlock. "Oi! What are you doing?!"

I put it in my back pocket, "They'll believe me before they ever believe you." he scowls at me and walks through the door. I follow him, "Hi. Um, do you know if we can get a room here?" I ask the receptionist.

She looks at me, then Sherlock, "Sure. One bed?" I roll my eyes and shake my head. She chuckles and says, "Ok. Sure. But there's a crime scene upstairs, so just be careful." We nod as if we understood not to go there. But despite what she thinks, we will never obey what people tell us.

We ran upstairs and down the hall to the room that the site said was the room he died in: 31c. we push the door open and duck under the tape to find the man just as the pictures were. His blood was everywhere. But we don't need him now. We need the room.

There's no sign of a struggle, so maybe the man was drunk. The wine glass sitting on the counter suggested that I'm right. Sherlock took two long looks at the room and walked out. I follow as he says, "The one who did it, lives with them, but it's confusing because the mother swears she did nothing, and her son didn't have an opinion."

"So he's married?" I ask the little detective.

"No, but engaged." He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, "I know it sounds cliché but I think the fiancée did it."

I shake my head, "It was the kid. How old is he?" I ask. Sherlock gives me a look of curiosity. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"The boy is eleven. I guess you could be right. But why would the boy join a group at that age?" he questioned more to himself than me.

"Maybe it is the fiancée then? It does seem more logical." I feel stupid now. But it could also have been both of them, or someone else entirely. "We need to find the rest of his family. I need to ask the fiancée some things." Sherlock nods at my suggestion.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I'm not sure how, but we convinced the fiancée: Ash, to let us in and ask her questions. At first she said about already talking to the police, but then we explained our situation, sort of. And she let us in.

"So, did you let anyone sleep in the house that night? You know, like an old friend maybe?" I ask as she sits down in a chair. She shakes her head, her red curls bouncing.

Sherlock takes a swing, "Did you or your son dislike him in any way?" I glared at him for suggesting such a thing.

But she actually answered it, "My son, Robby, he didn't like Jeff much. But I can guarantee you that he would never do such a thing." We both nod in understanding.

We finished questioning about the usual and left, Sherlock says to me as we walk, "You were right, the son did it. But technically he didn't. he had someone do it for him."

I take his hand, "So you're suggesting that he asked someone to do it for him, or he complained about something to someone and they decided to do that?" I question his reasoning.

He shrugs, "One of the two. Maybe someone who thought they needed to get revenge on him. But what would he have done to the child that- oh. Oh! That's it!" we ran into the flat and he slammed the door behind him and started writing the note to Lestrade as he always does. He solved the case?

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" he looked at me in disappointment.

He stands to explain himself, "A perfect men, except he's a drunk and he abuses the child. The child complains to his mother, but gets no response because she think he's just jealous. So he complains to someone else, the school counselor, and from there the counselor decides to deal with things themselves. But when the counselor tries to approach the man about his habits, he tries to hurt them. so, there you have the accident on the floor. My suggestion is that the counselor is an old war hero." He sits back down and continues writing what he just told me.

"But, then what about the heart on his chest?" I question him. He gives me another look.

"It's their mark of warning to others who do what that father did to his soon to be son. Those who are guilty will realize it, but those who aren't won't understand it at all." He smiles as he finishes the note to Lestrade.

He rushes out of the flat and down to the mailboxes to mail the letter to the Yard. When he comes back he hugs me. "Thank you."

I stand and he looks down at me, "For?" I look back up at him.

"For taking me to see the dead body and the woman and her son. But most of all, helping me not be so bored." I chuckle and was about to say, "Any time." But he stopped me from speaking, "Sh."

He sits on me and brings our faces extremely close. Our lips touch, "What-" he cuts me off by kissing me. my eyes close into the bliss he's caused me. then I realize it's Sherlock and I push him off. But I surprise myself by wanting more. He smiles at me.

I growl and push him onto the bed under him, mine. Figures. I push myself close to him again, "Why'd you do that?"

He whispers in my ear, "Because you needed it. And because I could." He nibbles my ear as I remember the last time someone kissed me, and I decide that I really did need it. And maybe I do really like him, and that's why I feel responsible for him, but I don't feel as though he's my little brother.

He looks me in the eye, and kisses me again. I melt into him and we move to where all of us is on the bed, and we don't fall off. I hover over him, "God, I think I love you." where did that come from?

He grins back up at me, "You think?" I grunt at him and attack his lips with kisses, then his neck. I move back to his lips and part with my own. Our tongues meet and I can tell he's never been at this part before, but he's not as bad as others who haven't done this before.

He tastes sweet as our tongues explore each other. I've never been with a man before. Hell, I've never had sex before. I don't know why, but I haven't. Yet. But now, with Sherlock here, and with both of us getting excited, who knows what could happen. Maybe he'll be my first. Or maybe he won't, no one can knows.

I move my knees to where I'm straddling his hips under me, and I strip him of his shirt and kiss his shoulder to his neck, then to his lips. He pulls my shirt off of me and kisses my chest, not sure what he's doing. I'm not sure either.

The next morning I wake up to find our clothes everywhere, and Sherlock and I are tangled into each other, naked. At first I panic, but then my memory floods back to me, and I smile into Sherlock's chest.

Last night, neither of us knew what we were doing to each other, but now, we both know a lot more. I feel Sherlock press his lips to my forehead as I look up at him. "Shower?" he nods, we both need one. But now we could take one together instead of complaining about who had more time than who.

Afterwards, we were sitting on the bed beside each other, holding hands and thinking about last night, and where we're going to get another case. But I also have tests next week, so I should probably study for those. I ask Sherlock to help me, if he could, "No," he says jokingly.

"Please," I pretend to beg.

"What do I get out of it, John?" I lean in close and smile at him.

"What do you want?" I ask him.

He gives an answer that I expected, "You." I kiss him.

I push him down, "You got it." We kiss more and eventually stop for me to say, "I should probably study now."

He nods, "Whatever." And we spent the rest of the day doing that, and other things, but mainly getting me ready for the semester exams. I'm going to hate them. but I love the time I get to spend with Sherlock, I'll take that any time.


End file.
